Page 3 of Her Christmas Fix
The silence stretches between us, filled only by the sound of the wind, which has picked up steam outside the open front door. Griffin studies me with those burnt honey eyes, and I have the uncomfortable feeling he sees far too much. The expensive clothes and expert highlights in my caramel-colored hair can’t hide the exhaustion, or the way I keep having to swallow back the emotions bubbling up in my throat.
He’s bigger than he seemed in the doorway and as solid as one of the redwoods in the forests I drove through on my way up the coast. He could have been cast as any number of alpha-type space heroes in the blockbuster Revstar franchise I was a part of for several years. Until they recast my part with a younger actress.
In some ways, he reminds me of Ian Barlowe, my ex and Riva’s father, who spent years as a quarterback in the NFL. Ian and I tried to make it work after our daughter was born, but we were both too dedicated to our careers to commit to each other.We’re amicable, but after that breakup, I swore off guys who look like they can swing an axe just as competently as a golf club.
I go for men in sharp suits and with sharper ambitions. What a damn fool and who am I kidding trying to rationalize my part in this fiasco?
Griffin has every right to judge me. Let him do his worst. To be honest, the idea of not having to project some pretend perfect image feels freeing. It’s both terrifying and liberating to just be me. I barely remember who I am without all the trappings of success, but I’m curious to meet her again.
My pulse quickens when he steps closer, but then he moves past me to examine the electrical work. I don’t appreciate the way my stomach flutters when he runs a hand through his dark hair, making it stick up in a way that should look messy but manages to be downright appealing.
Ireallydon’t like noticing any of this while standing in the ruins of my life.
“You can’t stay here.” His voice is gentler than it’s been. “It’s not safe. Half the electrical isn’t properly wired yet, and God knows what those raccoons have done.” He shakes his head. “I should have been checking in, but I’ve been slammed trying to catch up from...”
From the hole Daniel put him. ThatIput him in.
“What made you stop tonight?” I ask.
“I live about a half mile down the road. I was driving by and saw a light. Figured it was local kids breaking in to party.” He glances around the room again, and I swear it’s pain that flashes in those mesmerizing eyes. “This house doesn’t deserve that.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure why that tiny bit of protectiveness, which isn’t even aimed at me, makes my heart do a stupid pitter-patter thing, but there you are.
Admittedly, I should have made time to come here before now. But that doesn’t change the fact that the house is mygrandmother’s dream home and a symbol of taking back my own life. Even if Griffin doesn’t think much of me, I appreciate that he cares about this place.
“There’s a decent motel in town,” he says gruffly, like he’s having to force the words out. “The Wild Rose Point Inn. It’s late, but I know the owner. She’ll set you up with a room even at this hour.”
I shake my head and pull my arms tighter around myself. “I can’t do a hotel right now.”
“Why not?”
How do I explain that I won’t risk being recognized when I’m barely holding it together here? That I might be one paparazzi photo away from a complete breakdown splashed across every tabloid in America. “I need time away, and there’s always someone with a camera phone.”
“You don’t know the people in this town.”
“But I know how people react when they see me.” I hold up a hand before he can respond. “I’m not saying I believe the fame makes me special.” Those words might be the understatement of the century, yet the soft laugh I offer sounds pitiful even to my ears. “But it complicates things.”
His expression softens ever so slightly, like maybe he’s starting to see that I’m not the villain he wanted me to be. Just pitiful and pathetic. I’m not sure which is worse “I get that you want privacy, but there’s no heat here, no furniture, and your raccoon roommates seem pretty territorial.” He gestures around the gutted space. “You seriously can’t stay in this mess.”
I lift my chin. “I’ll sleep in my car.”
“Your car,” he repeats.
“It’s a Mercedes GLS. Fully loaded. It has seats that recline nearly flat, climate control, and heated everything.” I’m warming to the idea now, which probably makes me sound evenmore unhinged. “It’s basically a luxury hotel room on wheels. I’ve definitely stayed in worse.”
A sound escapes him that could be laughter or maybe a disbelieving snort. “You’re going to sleep in your car? In December on the Oregon coast.”
“It’s one night.” I square my shoulders, trying to look like I know what I’m doing, when it’s clear we both know I don’t. “And first thing tomorrow, I’m calling my new accounting firm because I’m going to pay you every penny you’re owed, with interest.”
For a long moment, Griffin just studies me. I try not to fidget under his steady gaze as he tries to figure out if I’m serious or if this is more celebrity bullshit.
“Daniel screwed us both over,” I continue, my voice steadier now. “I’m going to make it right.”
He gives the barest hint of a nod as his thick brows draw together. “You’re really going to sleep in your car?”
“I’m really going to sleep in my car.”
He shakes his head, mutters a few f-bombs under his breath and possibly the word “stubborn”, which I don’t think he means as a compliment.
